


The Kind of Love Between You and I

by ImWithEnjolras



Series: Spending One Week Trying to Fight Off Mistags and Ugly Behaviour from certain YoI fans 2017 [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 05:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11268972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImWithEnjolras/pseuds/ImWithEnjolras
Summary: “Um...Yuri?” The voice is shakey, more a whisper than anything else, but Yuri’s racing heartbeat calms down the moment he recognizes it.Yuri presses his forehead against the wood of the door. It’s cool. “Jean…”He hears Jean exhale from the other side and a dull thunk followed swiftly by a hiss-wince. “I-I just wanted to see-- no, I mean, I just wanted to hear your voice.”“Cold feet, Leroy?” Yuri snickers to cover up his own nerves and fears.“In a few hours, you won't be able to call me Leroy without also talking about yourself,” Jean answers without pause, relieving Yuri’s fears in one breath.





	The Kind of Love Between You and I

**Author's Note:**

> Days 2 & 3 (Confidence & Fashion) from Pliroy week this year. Yes, I am incredibly late, but it is what it is!
> 
> This is an attempt at describing fashion but I can't say it was too successful. I'm neither good at writing fluff nor am I very fashionable, but I hope it works out all the same. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Also I didn't edit it so I apologize for any mistakes in advance.

Yuri looks at himself in the mirror, smoothing the front of his clothes with shaky hands. He’s normally not this nervous. Performing is in his blood and it should be a walk in the park for him. But the keyword is  _ should _ . 

His confidence wavers at this point because he realizes that this isn’t an act; it isn’t something he has to perform or pretend to be . And that makes him nervous. This is real. This is his heart and feelings left for the public to see. But he wants this more than anything he’s wanted before. A few years ago, he would have never imagined he’d have this in his life.

This kind of relationship, this kind of love.

He’s getting married. 

Yuri takes another glance at himself in the full-length mirror before him. He’s more than satisfied with what he sees.

He’s used to getting dolled up. He’s used to having his say in the costume design. He’s used to the satisfaction he feels when the designer nails the merging of their ideas with his expectations. But he isn’t used to this. He’s never had full and final say in his outfit. He’s never had complete agency in how he presented himself and he never had the chance to bring the image he had in his mind to life.

It’s the first time he’s stepped out in something so personal. 

Yuri is, by no means, a designer. If left to his own devices, he’d be in full leopard print and studs twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year. But this was for something different - something that would change his life forever and he wanted it to be different.

But he still wanted it to be  _ him _ .

So here he is, smoothing down the hybrid wedding dress-pantsuit he had designed (with Isabella’s help, of course). It’s a gorgeous piece, subjectively and objectively, and it fits him like a glove. Yuri is used to having all eyes on him and he’s used to wearing glittery, skin-tight outfits. But he isn’t used to having all eyes on him while he’s wearing his heart on his sleeve. That’s more something his fiance is wont to do. 

Yuri had insisted on a skirt attachment around his waist; it comes out somewhat like a peplum with multiple layers of light, sparkly tulle that was shorter in the front than the back, where it trails on the ground. The pantsuit is white and skin-tight sleeveless one-piece with a sweetheart neckline and large cutouts at his waist. He had also opted for lace longsleeves that fit over his top in something like a see-through blazer, hugging to his body like a second skin before seemingly seamlessly disappearing under his skirt. 

It’s more lace than he had originally thought of incorporating. He had been afraid that the lace would be too itchy for him, but Isabella is a literal fairy godmother and had found lace that did not only  _ not  _ itch, he also couldn’t even feel it on his skin. The lace covers past his wrist, inlaid with delicate, swirling flowers and accented with tiny crystals.

_ Of course they have to be Swarovski _ , Isabella had said with a smile that not even Yuri could argue with,  _ There’s just a way they catch the light. _

And catch the light they do. He’s sparkling more than he ever did underneath the spotlights in any of the competitive rinks he’d ever set foot on.

Yuri has more jewelry on him than he originally intended as well, but he can’t even deny that he  _ really _ loves to sparkle. It’s mostly twinkling diamond clips in his hair, intricately entwined with the braids Lilia had plaited into his hair earlier. 

_ You’ve grown up. _

That was all she had said, but Yuri understood what Lilia had meant behind her words.  _ You’ve grown up. You have become so beautiful. My pride and joy, the prima ballerina you’ve fought to become. _

Yuri blinks, sniffling a little. He remembers how Yakov had popped in and gently patted his shoulder, hiding the tears in his eyes with a gruff grunt of patented Yakov approval and a deep frown. 

Yakov wasn’t successful at all at hiding his feelings.

Yuri’s grandfather had quietly stepped in and his coaches had immediately vacated the room after a quick hug from Lilia. Nikolai had stayed quiet at first, rocking up on his toes while staring contemplatively at Yuri.

Nikolai stood in front of Yuri, looping a string of pearls around his neck. They were his grandmother’s - the love of Nikolai Plisetsky’s life - and Yuri had nearly burst into tears right then and then. But Nikolai had cupped his cheek with a warm, weathered hand. Yuri leaned into the touch and Nikolai parted with a gentle kiss to Yuri’s forehead.

_ Don’t cry, Yura. You shine brighter than the stars _

Which is where Yuri finds himself now, sitting in front of the huge window in this room as the white curtains flutter gently in the wind that is filtering through the open doors. He’s in a weird state of excitement, impatience, and inexplicable and unusual nervousness. Yuri has his hands in his lap as he stares out through the window. It’s a beautiful view, but it’s too quiet. He’s used to noise and Jean’s boisterous laughter and the sounds of Potya traipsing around their living room floor.

And he’s too nervous to be alone right now.

His hands are shaking so much and that seals his decision. Yuri bolts up, knocking over the chair he’s been sitting on and strides to the door. His hand is just about to turn the doorknob when a tentative knock halts his movements.

“Um...Yuri?” The voice is shakey, more a whisper than anything else, but Yuri’s racing heartbeat calms down the moment he recognizes it.

Yuri presses his forehead against the wood of the door. It’s cool. “Jean…”

He hears Jean exhale from the other side and a dull thunk followed swiftly by a hiss-wince. “I-I just wanted to see-- no, I mean, I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Cold feet, Leroy?” Yuri snickers to cover up his own nerves and fears. 

“In a few hours, you won't be able to call me Leroy without also talking about yourself,” Jean answers without pause, relieving Yuri’s fears in one breath. 

A few heartbeats of comfortable silence linger over them before Yuri breaks the silence. “Open the door.”

There’s a sharp inhale. “Yuri, we--”

Yuri allows himself a private smile; Jean is adorable with how much of a stickler for tradition he is. “Not all the way, dummy. I just want to hold your hand.”

The sharp bite of ‘dumbass’ had long ago fallen away to become a warm iteration of ‘dummy’. Jean just has the effect on Yuri - one he didn’t expect and hadn’t welcomed at first. Yuri thought these pesky feelings he had for the Canadian would eventually disappear, but they just became more and more prominent as Jean became a permanent fixture in Yuri’s life.

Four years and countless memories later, Yuri is finally doing the one thing he’d never thought he’d do - much less with a man like Jean-Jacques Leroy; he’s getting married.

The door slowly pries open behind him and he catches Jean’s searching fingers between his own. Yuri is instantly calmed. The familiar feel of Jean’s palm and the grip of his fingers quells the nerves that were swirling deep in Yuri’s belly. 

“Are you afraid?” Jean asks, voice barely above a whisper. Yuri doesn’t know what to say, but Jean fills the silence regardless. “I’m afraid.”

Yuri immediately squeezes Jean’s hand, which he now notices is clammier than he’s ever felt before. There’s a weak squeeze back. “Why?”

“I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Do you think you will?”

Jean remains uncharacteristically silent for a while. Yuri’s heart squeezes in his chest. He wants nothing more than to rip the door fully open and take Jean into his arms, but he won’t. He inexplicably wants to keep to Jean’s cheesy tradition no matter what, so he resorts to tracing circles into Jean’s hand with his thumb. He hears Jean take a shaky breath.

“I don’t want to. I never want to disappoint you,” Jean’s voice drops to a whisper, hand shaking in Yuri’s. “But I’m afraid that I will, no matter how hard I try not to.”

Yuri hears Jean sniffle and the rustle of clothes from the other side. He isn’t really sure what to say; he isn’t sure if he should even say anything. From experience, he usually just lets Jean ride this mood out, lets him talk it out himself. But Jean has fallen quiet again. 

Yuri bites his lip, thinking back to all the years they’ve been together. “I can’t say that we won’t fight ever,” Yuri whispers. “I can’t say that we won’t hurt each other or disappoint each other. Let’s face it, Jean, we have. Before.” Yuri hears Jean’s shaky exhale and feels tears rise to his eyes. “But that’s just who we are. We’re passionate and expressive and fuck-- we’re two different people trying to live one life together for the rest of our lives! It’s not going to be easy!” 

Yuri stops, not sure if he should continue, but he does. “I’m going to marry you. I don’t care what the rest of the world thinks. I...I love you and all the good in my life that came from you or was because of you overshadows everything. Disappoint me! I don’t care! I’m going to marry you! I love you and you love me and we can work it out like we always do.” 

He takes one more breath, remembering one moment so many years ago that still shakes him to the core when Jean turned his world upside down and showed him another way to love. “You said it before, so I’m going to say it to you now. I’m not going to give up on you. I’m never going to give up on you. I’m  _ never _ letting you go, so don’t you even fucking think about letting me go.”

Jean stays quiet for a moment and if he had not been holding onto Yuri’s hand, Yuri would have thought the man had left. “You are absolutely amazing, Yuri Plisetsky.” Yuri’s heart feels light and he guesses that Jean feels the same. “I am the luckiest man alive to have someone like you loving me.”

Yuri sniffs, totally  _ not _ crying. “Sh-Shut up, you moron.” Jean lets out a bright laugh and Yuri can’t help but join him. “And that’s Yuri  _ Leroy _ to you,” he adds quietly.

Jean’s breath stutters loudly and Yuri grins at the mere fact that he alone has this effect on the man.

“Hey...I, uh...here.” There’s a hurried sound and Jean is slipping something through the opening with his free left hand. Yuri grasps whatever it is with his right, sharply inhaling when he finally sees what it is.

It’s only a hair clip; it’s really simple, so there’s nothing much to it. But it’s a combination of feathers and leopard print and Jean really knows how to appeal to Yuri’s extravagant side. Yuri carefully extricates his hand from Jean’s to slide the pin into his carefully braided hair. 

He catches sight of himself in the mirror to his right. It looks good and it kind of feels like it ties all of this together. The pin offsets the gold in his hair and Yuri thinks that it just makes him look even more like himself. 

He allows himself a small smile as he tugs at the front of his outfit.

Yuri’s nervous and a tiny bit scared, but - most importantly - he’s excited. He’s so fucking excited.

He can’t wait to start walking down that aisle, to look up and find Jean waiting for him at the other end. For an uncountable number of months he’s imagined the look he’ll see on Jean’s face, but could never truly pinpoint it. Jean’s eyes would probably light up and that grin on his face would be on the side of far too bright. But would Jean start crying? Would he cover his mouth behind both of his hands as he tries to stifle his sobs?

Yuri hopes Jean doesn’t cry. He knows that the moment Jean starts crying, he will start crying and Yuri knows he is an ugly crier. Huge tears, sniffly-borderline-snotty and bright red nose, shaking shoulders - the whole thing.

One thing Yuri knows for sure though, Jean will be so overflowing with love it’d be sickening if he weren’t the one on the receiving end of such a bright and flawless love. A voice inside his head that sounds strangely like Yuuri Katsuki giggles at how much a love like Jean’s has changed him.

“Jean?” The voice that comes from him cracks in the middle of Jean’s name.

“Yeah?”

“I love it.” Yuri passes his fingers over the pin once more. Jean doesn’t say anything in reply, but it’s mostly because both men are just picking up their own nerves now.

Yuri hears a sharp exhale before a slapping sound. “...ow..”

The younger man blinks, not sure what just happened. “Jean? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Jean chuckles. “I just smacked myself too hard.”

“You are such a dumbass,” Yuri admonishes fondly.

“Yeah...but I’m your dumbass.” There’s a rustling sound and Yuri assumes Jean is adjusting his tuxedo. “Besides, who’s the dumbass marrying me?”

Yuri snickers. “Yeah, yeah. Get outta here, you shit.”

A scandalized gasp comes from Jean. “What a dirty mouth you have!”

“And don’t you love it!” Jean groans loudly.

“Yuri!” He whines. “Not before the wedding!” 

Both men are immediately reduced to giggles. Yuri can’t stop looking at himself in the mirror; he just hopes that he has the same effect on Jean, if not more. “Jean?”

“Hm?” In a few minutes, the ceremony is going to start. The musicians that he and Jean carefully decided on are going to play The Wedding March or some cheesy love song or something - Yuri doesn’t remember and it doesn’t matter.

In a few minutes, he’s going to marry Jean Jacques Leroy.

Yuri allows himself another smile, heart fluttering in his chest. “I’ll see you on the other end of that aisle.

“Knock my socks off, tiger.” Jean giggles again. “I love you. So much”

“I love you too.”

 

* * *

 

 

When Yuri takes the last few steps to stand by his grandfather, the older man carefully arranges the veil on Yuri’s head. They don’t exchange any words, watery smiles doing all the talking for them. 

Yuri takes Nikolai’s hand in his; the difference is striking and it brings a feeling of deep and intense gratitude for the man who has single-handedly raised him into the man he is today. He wants to treasure these moments - Yuri knows that these days with his grandfather are precious and few and he has to make the most of every single one of them. 

Nikolai squeezes Yuri’s hand, bringing his attention back to the present. “The future is for the future,” he says, almost as if he had read Yuri’s mind. “Today you are getting married. Do not worry. I have many tissues.” The old man pats his breast pocket and Yuri bursts into a grin, pulling his veil back for a moment to kiss his grandfather’s cheek.

“Thank you,  дедуля.” Yuri leans back, wiping at the gloss his kiss left on Nikolai’s cheek with his thumb. “I’m getting married!”

Nikolai clicks his tongue affectionately, forced to rearrange the veil again. “And you will be the most spectacular image that man has and will ever see.” He smiles warmly at Yuri. “I’m very proud of you, Yuri. I am blessed to have a grandson like you. I’m happy you have found your happiness.” Nikolai sticks his arm out for Yuri to hold onto. “Time to be knocking the socks from Jean’s feet.”

Yuri’s clutch on his grandfather’s arm is gentle as he snickers. He takes one more deep breath, ignoring that tell-tale feeling of tears behind his eyes and that breathless knot in his throat. At least let him get onto the aisle before the tears start falling. Yuri nods at his grandfather who gently knocks against one of the massive wooden doors and then they open.

What greets them in the interior of the building is, for lack of a more encompassing word, stunning. Yuri and Jean had picked this place purely for it being a  _ palace _ of all things and for the ostentatious nature of literally everything in and on the building. Intricate and complicated carvings and paintings line the walls, from floor to ceiling, extending even to the exterior. Every corner and border is accented by gold -  _ real, actual gold _ \- as paintings of anything from voluptuous men and women in barely-there fabrics to dainty flowers filled in the spaces.

Yuri is stunned to silence. Everything is better than perfect - from the windows thrown wide open to the the friends and family looking at him with wide, happy smiles. His gaze passes over their guests before landing on the one person - the one man - he’s been waiting to see all day.

He doesn’t pay attention to the song that’s playing, though he had earlier been wondering what it could possibly be. It’s  _ not _ the classic wedding march. He vaguely remembers the tune - something about living and loving in the present - but he can’t be bothered to think about this any more than he already has. Yuri has other things to focus on.

Jean is looking right back at him, with a look in his eyes so soft and so  _ in love _ that it steals all the air in Yuri’s lungs away. Jean’s eyes glisten with tears, gaze breaking away only once in a poor attempt to collect himself. Yuri watches as Jean squeezes his lips together, shoulders lifting as he takes a stabilizing breath, blinking quickly to try and get himself together. They make eye contact again, a wobbly, watery smile falling on Jean’s lips. Yuri is sure a similar smile is reflected on his own face.

Yuri doesn’t even realize that he and his grandfather are halfway down the aisle. The older man just smiles, his free hand patting Yuri’s which is now tightly clutching the crook of his elbow. Yuri doesn’t notice how everyone is looking between him and Jean, doesn’t notice how the older women coo about how they’re looking at each other, doesn’t notice how they are admiring what he’s wearing, and doesn’t notice how there’s not a dry eye in the audience. 

All he has his eyes on is his Jean.

He’s so breathless, it feels like he’s been holding his breath the whole way down the aisle. A few tears slip down Jean’s cheeks and the man does nothing to wipe them away. He just tilts his chin higher and Yuri’s smile widens. His cheeks hurt just from how hard he’s grinning. Yuri wants to walk faster, wants to get to Jean as fast as he can. They’ve been apart from each other for longer, but being apart from Jean these last 24 hours was unbearable.

But Yuri dutifully keeps pace with his grandfather, keeping his gaze on Jean the whole way down, and when they finally make it to the first row of guests, Jean meets Yuri and Nikolai. It’s the only other time Jean takes his eyes off of Yuri and Yuri watches with a blindingly bright grin as Nikolai firmly grasps Jean’s hand.

Then Jean does something a little unexpected.

He bends forward, bringing the back of Nikolai’s hand to his forehead for a moment. Yuri’s gaze widens. He remembers Jean telling him about it - it’s a sign of respect in the Filipino culture and something Alain had taught all of his children - and Yuri feels like his heart is going to burst with warmth and happiness. 

_ (Yeah, Yuri’s getting soft. He can’t help it. All the tabloids have been saying it over the years and Yuri’s learned to ignore them. But it wasn’t like he was never soft. He’s always been soft. Yuri just made sure you had to dig through at least 20 meters of permafrost and trek through roughly 1200 kilometers of frigid Russian-esque tundra. Luckily for him, Jean was more than willing to do that and then some. So, really, Yuri is just getting  _ **_softer_ ** _.) _

When Jean straightens back up, he immediately hugs Nikolai before the older Russian man can get away and Yuri can’t help but snicker. Nikolai gives Jean several solid pats on the back during their embrace, but the Canadian doesn’t falter and Yuri has to admire him for that. Nikolai takes a few seconds after the men release each other to tuck a pack of tissues he had pulled from inside his suit into Jean's, gently tapping him on the chest. And then Jean turns back to him.

Jean’s gaze is on him again and that breathless feeling returns. They take a moment, just taking each other in at the bottom of the stairs. Jean reaches out and it feels like electricity as his hands trace up Yuri’s arms, past his elbows, to settle on his waist. Both men lean forward, gently pressing their foreheads together. One of Yuri’s arms wraps around Jean’s trim waist, while the other hand traces up Jean’s chest and behind his neck. Yuri feels Jean’s racing heartbeat beneath his palm; it’s going just about as fast as his.

Jean pulls back a little, that handsome grin of his only getting brighter.

“You look absolutely breathtaking.” Yuri’s heart flutters in his chest as Jean’s thumbs press gentle circles into his waist. “Even more than usual.”

There’s that teary crack in his voice again, overwhelmed with feelings.

“Are your socks knocked off?” The couple share a gentle eskimo kiss, careful as to not disturb Yuri’s veil.

“Considerably. Right out the doors.” Yuri snickers, looking up at Jean through his eyelashes. Jean’s eyes crinkle before taking a quick glance at their surrounding friends and family. “Shall we get this ceremony going, sweetheart? Our audience awaits.”

Yuri nods, carefully extricating himself from Jean’s hold, but he keeps a hold of one of Jean’s hands. With a flourish, Jean leads Yuri up the stairs, helping him with a gentle hand.

“Jean?” Yuri whispers, squeezing the hand of the man who, in a few moments, would be his husband. 

“Yes, my stunning Russian tiger?” Yuri and Jean have yet to break eye contact, looking at each other from the corners of their eyes.

“We’re getting married!”

And with this---

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Yuri Plisetsky and Jean-Jacques Leroy.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, yes, I made JJ part Filipino because I can and because it wouldn't be absurd for a Canadian kid to be mixed. Trust me on that.
> 
> I hope y'all enjoyed!
> 
> Drop me a comment and catch me on tumblr at stillwritinghallelujah or twitter @kougamira.


End file.
